


A Pemberley Anniversary

by RedChucks



Series: Boosh and Prejudice stories [2]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: A brief follow up to Boosh and Prejudice.





	A Pemberley Anniversary

The years had passed like the fluttering pages of a well-read novel. There had been adventures, both at home and abroad, mysteries and scandals and disagreements aplenty, but more than anything there had been love. The kind of multi-faceted affection which, like a hardy perennial, was not easily killed. They had together transformed a cold palace in to a home filled with warmth and laughter and learning and as he gazed out across the vast gardens of Pemberely, Vince let out a laugh of both joy and disbelief at the turns his life had taken to bring him to such a point. As a lad, sewing dresses for his sisters an dreaming of all of the fantastical hats he wished to own, Vince had never imagined finding love, or a place where he was wholeheartedly accepted for who he was, let alone a man who had adored him, albeit clumsily, for some thirty years.

The sun was setting across the pretty little woodland that surrounded the estate now, casting long shadows across the lawns but filling the sky with a drunken array of colours. He squinted and was able to make out the figures of Michael Darcy and his companion Dave over by the stables. They had spent the day out on horseback, checking the boundary fences, or so they said, and the sight of them laughing together filled Vince’s heart with warmth. 

Across the meadow Mary and Rose were making their own leisurely way back toward the house, sketch pads in hand, talking with enthusiasm, their backs still straight and strides sure after so many years walking the grounds and cataloguing the unique botany of the area. The sound of his dear sister’s laughter floated to him on the breeze and again Vince found his chest filling with such a multitude of emotions that he could barely suppress the desire to dance about the balcony on which he stood. He might have done so too had it not been for the sound of footsteps in the sitting room behind him.

“The Bingleys have arrived,” came the voice like smooth wine. “And Fitzwilliam and Catherine asked where you have been hiding? Is... is everything alright?”

Vince turned to look at the man standing so unassumingly in the centre of their private sitting room. He had aged well, Vince had known he would and, though it had taken nearly a decade, Vince had finally found a way to tailor the man’s clothes to hang properly on his frame, so that he was both comfortable and presentable. He looked dashing, handsome, ravishable, and Vince smiled at him gently, knowing that even after so long he was prone to worry that all of ‘this’ was not enough.

“Howard,” he said, opening his arms to call the man to him, smiling as he did so.

The older man stepped in to the circle of Vince’s embrace and lowering his head until his cheek rested on Vince’s crown and they stood together in the fading light. 

“Is everything alright?” Howard whispered. “Are you alright?

“Howard...”

“My love?”

Vince grinned at that, pulling back just enough to look up in to Howard’s eyes.

“My Mr Darcy, everything is perfectly pleasant, more than I ever thought to hope for.”

“Why do you still insist upon calling me that?”

“Because,” Vince smirked, flicking a lock of greying hair from his face, “it still makes you blush, and that brings me as much joy today as it did when we stood in my father’s field so many years ago.”

“Thirty years ago,” Howard nodded, “to be precise.”

“Thirty years,” Vince agreed, “when you gifted me this ring, stood so rugged in the dawnlight, and confessed to me how madly in love with me you were.”

Howard chuckled and squeezed his companion’s hand.

“And now it is twilight, and I love you more, impossible as it seems, my dearest Vince. But come, our friends and family await our entrance. They have come from near and far to celebrate our anniversary-”

“And Jane and Bingley’s of course.”

“Of course,” Howard smiled behind his grey bristles, “and so we must not keep them waiting.”  
They walked hand in hand back in to the house, pausing only to close and latch the balcony doors and draw the curtains, as Howard insisted they do in order to retain heat in their rooms and thereby save his poor legs from Vince’s cold feet in the middle of the night. They walked down to the main hall of the great house arm in arm, a tall, slope-shouldered man with untidy grey curls and an unassuming (though well tailored) suit, and a man of smaller stature, though overflowing with life, with magnificent hair and dressed in a cream suit and vest of rose silk in the latest style. 

There their friend and family - siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews and great-nieces and nephews - greeted them with the greatest affection, ready to celebrate the day when Jane and Christopher Bingley, and Howard Darcy and Vince Bennet had bid farewell to the world of prejudice and conceit, and set out to carve their own paths.

When the dinner was ended and they were all sat in the main drawing room, talking and laughing by the light of the fire, Vince looked around at the people who had shaped his life and shared with him the adventure that had been his unexpected courtship. In some ways they had changed; they were older certainly, had faced much, endured much, survived much, but in so many ways they were the same, and it pleased him greatly. 

There was one face he did not have to search for, however, one person whose position in the room never wavered and, as Vince brought his hands to rest upon the ivory keys he fancied he could feel the shift in the air as Howard, from his chair beside the piano, sat forward in anticipation.


End file.
